Nothing Either Good or Bad
by Sabe
Summary: Following some members of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry finds himself in Malfoy Manor and must re-evaluate many of his most strongly-held beliefs. Slash later.


**Disclaimer:**  I'm not JK Rowling. The rest can be inferred. It's tempting to not put this and see how long it'll take for the armored cars to show up at my front door. *snert*

**Authors notes: **My second Harry Potter fanfiction. Wahoo. This one takes place in the summer before Harry's 6th year. I have the unsettling feeling that this will be considerably longer than my last Harry Potter fic, which I put up as one chapter. I have no idea how long this one will end up, but by the end it will have turned slash-y. Read on…

**Nothing Either Good or Bad**

_"…there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"_

_-_Shakespeare, Hamlet (Act II, scene ii)**__**

**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter awoke to the sound of an alarm clock blaring into his half-conscious ears. Rolling over, he tried valiantly to ignore it, but the knowledge that it would not stop even if he were to somehow fall back asleep was enough to get him to throw off the pillow he had wrapped around his head. He rolled back over and grabbed the alarm clock in one swift motion, and then threw it as hard as he could against the far wall. To its credit, it did stop beeping, but only because it had stopped mid-air as it reached the end of its electrical cord, which it had then pulled loose from the wall.

         "Stupid Muggle clock," the bleary-eyed Harry muttered to himself, before realizing distantly how much he was starting to sound like Ron Weasley, his best friend. The thought was both comforting and mildly disconcerting at the same time, but Harry shook it off as he opened his eyes fully to see the small bedroom he was forced to inhabit during the summer.

         After setting the clock back up on his bedside table and getting dressed, Harry made his way downstairs and to the kitchen, where Aunt Petunia was removing blueberry muffins from the oven.

         "'Morning, Aunt Petunia," Harry said brightly as he entered the room, helping himself to some of the orange juice that sat in a pitcher on the kitchen table. His aunt gave him a sharp, disapproving look, but grudgingly gave him a muffin nonetheless.

         Ever since the Dursleys had had the misfortune to meet Mad-Eye Moody at the end of school the previous year, Harry could be assured that he would be treated well enough to quell his aunt and uncle's fear of being murdered in their sleep. This plus his new freedom to keep in touch with his friends more easily had made Harry's summer comfortable enough so far, although he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing out on a lot. He wanted desperately to be back with his friends, where he belonged.

         Which was why his heart leapt when he heard the startling _crack_ that usually went along with apparition, and saw a flash of bright red hair that materialized into George Weasley, standing between the oven and the microwave.

         With a shriek, Aunt Petunia dropped the plate of muffins she had been holding, and hurdled herself behind the nearest chair. "What in—Who—Get out of here, young man," she began, drawing herself up now to full height. "I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but I will not stand to have you in my kitchen!" This was a lie, of course, for Aunt Petunia never had been known to forget a face, and would certainly have remembered seeing George before. As for what he could be doing standing in her kitchen, there was only one likely reason, and Petunia, though not sane by most standards, was no fool.

         "Actually—" began George, but he was cut short by another loud crack, after which his twin brother Fred appeared beside him. Aunt Petunia let out another shriek, as if she thought George might be replicating himself.

         "Sorry," Fred said casually, dusting himself off a bit for dramatic emphasis. "Dad stopped to tell me something. Did I miss anything?"

         "Not really," George began to say, but his voice was quickly drowned out by Petunia's.

         "Get out! OUT! I—I… I DEMAND that you leave my kitchen this instant!" she shouted, stomping her foot on the tiled floor.

         "Glad to," said George, heading for the stairs.

         "Just as soon as we get Harry's stuff, we'll be gone," added Fred earnestly. 

         Petunia looked as if she wanted to protest as the twins bounded gleefully up the stairs, but she made no comment. Not bothering to see her expression, which was no doubt horrified, Harry turned and raced up the stairs after them.

         He entered his room to see the Weasley twins already occupying it, fixing its contents with an appraising stare. "So, er… What took you so long?" Harry asked, his relief at finally being collected making it easy to keep any edge out of his voice.

         "Dumbledore," was Fred's only explanation.

         "Dad argued that you would be safer at the Burrow, but Dumbledore insisted. He said it would be alright now, though, so we came to get you," George clarified, summoning Harry's belongings from around the room and shoving them into a large suitcase that seemed to have appeared from thin air. "Tonks was trying to show me how to do this, but I'm bloody awful at it," he admitted as the suitcase struggled to shut itself.

         Harry grinned, watching the spectacle from a safe distance. "So why are the two of you here?" he asked, remembering that the summer before a group of Aurors had shown up to retrieve him.

         "Mum and Dad were busy," Fred answered, "so we offered to come get you for them."

         "But… I can't apparate," said Harry. "How am I—?" he began, but Fred cut him off.

         "Oh, come now, you think that two experienced wizards like ourselves hadn't taken every possible detail into consideration when dealing with something of importance like this?" Fred began in a lofty tone.

         "Mum decided that the three of us on broomsticks wasn't safe, and there's no Floo powder around…" explained George.

         "…So Dad suggested that we go by the Muggle subway," finished Fred, sounding quite pleased with the arrangement.

         Harry grinned at the thought despite himself. "Sounds like fun," he said, not daring to wonder what Mrs. Weasley might have thought of this suggestion, or if she even knew about it.

         "Right," said Fred. "So, if we stop talking, go wave goodbye to your dear aunt, and get out of this miserable place, we'll be home in time to get some breakfast."

         It sounded like a good idea to Harry. He quickly grabbed Hedwig, who was, thankfully, in her cage, and his Firebolt, and started down the stairs, Fred and George following with the suitcase. Aunt Petunia was now violently washing the dishes and refused to look in their direction when Harry bid her farewell, and even when Fred and George began making rude comments, most of which made little sense.

         The twins were dressed in muggle clothing, but even as such they managed to draw a shade more attention to themselves than would be considered normal for teenagers walking to the subway station. At least they didn't point at random muggle objects and comment strangely about them. Much.

         "What's that? That little black thing that muggle's talking into?" asked George, trying to point discreetly and only doing a slightly better job of it than his father would have.

         "Looks like a telephone," commented Fred, who could, at least, pronounce the word properly.

         "Er, it's called a cell phone," explained Harry, looking down and hoping that the man wouldn't notice them if they hurried along. "It's a telephone, but you can use it from anywhere."

         "Oh," said George. "Well, that's useful if you don't have magic, I suppose."

         "Yeah," agreed Fred. "Kinda clever." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Do you still have to shout to be heard on them?"

         Harry opened his mouth to answer, thought about it, and didn't bother answering at all.

*          *          *

         The subway ride was about as uneventful as one could expect such a thing to be, considering the circumstances. The three of them got a few strange looks (mostly because of Hedwig) while on the subway, but for the most part managed to blend in with the masses until they got off at a stop within walking distance from the Burrow.

         "Getting hot already, isn't it?" commented Fred as they made their way to the distinctive crooked lump in the far distance that was the Burrow.

         "It would be faster if we apparated and let you fly the rest of the way," explained George, "but Mum would probably think we'd forgotten you or something and have our heads before we could get a word out."

         They walked the rest of the way, until the lump came fully into view as a tall, unstable looking building that Harry still couldn't help but feel was going to crash into the ground any day now. Just as he pondered this, Mrs. Weasley came rushing out of the house to meet them.

         "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad to see you're here safely!" she exclaimed as a greeting, hugging him tightly and then motioning for him to follow her inside. "I was worried because you hadn't shown up, and then I wondered how you were going to get back if you couldn't apparate yet and I asked your father about it and—" She seemed to finally take a breath and remember something. "Did you really ride on the Muggle subway?" she asked.

         "Er, yes," said Harry, since Fred and George seemed to have fallen silent behind him. 

         "Good heavens, no wonder it took so long—really! All that trouble… We could have gone over and gotten you ourselves, but we've been awfully busy, you see, and I said it would be alright for Fred and George to do it because they promised they wouldn't take long, but I had forgotten entirely…" she trailed off, half-muttering to herself as she stepped into the familiar Weasley kitchen. 

         "Harry!" cried a familiar voice, and milk went flying over the table at which Ron Weasley sat. The milk spilling was the result of an overly exuberant hand gesture, no doubt, and Ron made no attempt to correct the damage. "It's about time you got here," Ron continued, standing up to greet Harry. "Ginny and I were going to go kidnap you soon if Dumbledore didn't—"

         "No, _you_ were going to go kidnap him, and _I_, being the kind, loving sister I am, was going to go chase after you and keep you from getting yourself killed," clarified Ginny, who had been sitting across from Ron and who was now wiping the milk off the table with a dishrag.

         Harry stifled a laugh at this, glancing at Ron, who looked slightly put-off. "Right," he said, clearly eager to end the argument. C'mon, Harry, did you put your stuff up in my room yet?"

         "Oh, no, I…" He looked around for the suitcase his stuff had been put in, and was unable to locate it.

         "Fred and George took it up already," Ginny informed him as she put the dishrag by the sink at which Mrs. Weasley was magically washing dishes.

         Ron blinked. "Oh. Well, then," he began, "do you want to practice Quidditch out in the back yard a bit?"

         "Er, well…" He didn't, actually. Sure, he loved Quidditch, loved flying, and would love to be able to fly again for the first time all summer. But he had more pressing desires at the time, like the desire to find out everything that he had missed. Then again, perhaps he could ask once Mrs. Weasley was out of earshot. "Yeah, sure," he finally responded. "I'll go and get my broom, then."

         This, however, was unnecessary, as Fred and George had apparently thought of this and had thoughtfully left Harry's broom outside. Before long, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny were all zooming about the general area, playing a noisy and rather odd game of Quidditch (it had evolved basically into Ginny trying to goal, Ron trying to defend, and Fred and George trying to knock Harry off his broom.)

         It wasn't until after the game, after dinner, and after Harry had changed into his pajamas and gotten settled into a spare bed that had been set up in Ron's room that Harry got a chance to ask Ron anything about the events of the past month.

         "So… Ah… What's been going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice down somewhat in the dimly lit room.

         "Huh? Oh… Well, not that much that they've told me. Mum and Dad have been busy, of course, but they haven't said much about what they're doing. I think they've been going after Death Eaters, actually." He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. Not much to know about."

         "Oh," said Harry, sounding vaguely disappointed. That was stupid, of course—as they said, no news was good news. Then again, no news could also mean that the news there was was being kept secret. "But… I mean…" he trailed off. What did he mean? "Voldemort…" he finally said, ignoring the slight spasm that made its way across Ron's freckled face, "What… I mean… Do you know anything?"

         "Sorry," said Ron, sounding apologetic as he made himself comfortable under his worn bed sheets. "I don't know any more than you do. I don't think any of us do, actually."

         Harry let out a deep breath; whether he had been holding it in hope or worry he could not tell. "What about the Death Eaters?" he asked, hoping to get some useful information out of Ron before the boy was asleep.

         "Ah… Well, Mum and Dad have mostly been busy with that…" Ron began, his voice betraying a hint of worry.

         "What?" probed Harry, who was getting the feeling Ron wasn't telling him something. "Has anything happened?"

         "I think—well, actually, I think they're going somewhere tonight and I might have to go, too," Ron finished, speaking a bit more quickly than he normally did. "I don't think I was supposed to mention that…" he added as an afterthought.

         "What?" asked Harry again, his interest thoroughly piqued. "Where are you going?"

         "Er…" said Ron. "I don't think I should say. I mean, not that it matters or anything, but Mum and Dad don't want me to talk about it… You know… I'll tell you about it later."

         Harry sighed, the familiar feeling of once again being left out of things coming back to him abruptly. "Well, have fun," he said dryly, not sure how sarcastic he really intended the comment to be.

         Ron looked as though he wanted to say something, but decided not to. "Goodnight, then," he said instead, blowing out the candle lit by his bed.

         The room went dark. This was, of course, a logical occurrence, since the only light source in the room had been extinguished, but it took Harry by surprise nonetheless. Slowly, his eyes readjusted to the minimal light peeking through the window shade until at last the unfinished thoughts and questions mulling about in his head quieted to a dull roar and his eyes closed of their own will.

         He didn't know how long he had been asleep when a slight creak brought him back to consciousness with startling speed. He blinked a few times, noticing that Ron's bed was now empty. They must have left… He sighed, suddenly feeling pensive. Then he heard the murmur of voices below.

         "…Better be off soon," he heard a vaguely familiar voice say.

         He listened more carefully. He thought he had heard someone say his name at one point, but it was mostly indistinct mutterings. Resolutely, he rolled over and tried to ignore the voices, knowing that soon they would go away. But they didn't. After about a minute, he couldn't take it anymore. A mix of curiosity, annoyance, and worry was keeping him awake, and he knew that he would not be able to sleep even when the voices finally stopped. He stood up, creeping to the door as quietly as possible. His hand reached out and grabbed the cold doorknob, but something stopped him from turning it. What would be the point of going down there? They would just exchange awkward glances and eventually leave, probably without telling him where they were going.

         Then he remembered his invisibility cloak. It was in his suitcase—he could even remember exactly where in his suitcase George had put it. He heard another rustle from below. Slowly, he made his way to the other side of the room where his suitcase sat, closed but unzipped. He stared at it for a moment, unsure, before lifting the cover and extracting the invisibility cloak. Another murmur from below filled him with a strange mix of resolve and recklessness. He threw the cloak over his head and quickly went to the door of the room and opened it, and then tiptoed down the stairs.

         He entered the Weasley kitchen to see a familiar assortment of people standing around the kitchen table. Ron was there, as were Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and—to his mild surprise—Professor Lupin, whose voice he suspected was the one he had heard from upstairs.

         "Everyone clear?" Lupin asked, looking around the table at the nodding Weasleys. "Right. Let's go—Tonks is expecting us." He and the others went over to the fireplace, and Mr. Weasley picked up the jar of Floo powder on the mantle.

         "Ginny, are you sure you—" he began, but Ginny cut him off.

         "Yes, Dad, I'm going," she said, holding out her hand. Her father, looking dubious, put some of the Floo powder into her hand, but put a hand on her shoulder as he gave the jar to Lupin. Lupin took a pinch of it for himself, and then gave some to Ron, before putting the jar into his pocket.

         "I'll go first and make sure everything's in order," said Lupin. He stepped into the fireplace and muttered… something. Harry couldn't quite make it out, as he was standing on the other side of the room for fear of being heard. Wherever it was, Lupin returned in a few moments to tell them that the coast was clear. Apparently, the rest had already been decided on—Lupin went in again, followed by Mr. Weasley, and then Ron.

Lastly, it was Ginny's turn. As she prepared to step into the fireplace, Harry suddenly was struck by a powerful sense of curiosity, and he quickly made his way over to the fireplace in an attempt to find out where they were going. Perhaps he had inadvertently made some sort of noise, because before she went, Ginny looked around the empty room nervously. Harry held his breath, and Ginny finally turned back to the flames and stepped in. And just before she disappeared, Harry heard her voice cough out something he could not have expected—"Malfoy Manor!"


End file.
